The Rain On Your Skin
by caffinate-me
Summary: A follow-up "Unwritten" companion. AU. They had both made their peace with the possibility that this all one day could end, even though both prayed every night before they closed their eyes for one day more in paradise.


The Rain on Your Skin

A follow-up Unwritten one-shot.

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><p>"Mommy, mommy! Look at me."<p>

Rebecca Rogers Castle looked up from her place sitting crosslegged on the fluffy blue and green beach blanket in time to see her five-year-old daughter fall to her butt. The brilliant white sand padded her fall. The girl put her hands to her head, holding it in place- dizzy from all of the twirls she had been spinning. Rebecca laughed as she stood, putting aside the book that had been lying mostly unread in her lap and stepped across the warm sand to scoop up her dazed daughter. According to Joanie Castle, twirling was the newest best thing ever.

The little girl looked up with glazed blue eyes as her mother scooped her up in her arms. Her daughter settled on her hip, and Rebecca ignored the sand caked all over her little body and flowered bathing suit. Lifting sandy fingers to her face, Joanie attempted to brush an errant lock of hair out of her eyes, finally getting it on the third try with a giggle.

"You okay there, Jo?"

Rebecca was answered with another bright laugh. It was the type of sound only a child could make, one that would light up even the darkest of moods. "The world is still tilty, Mommy."

"Mm hmm, I'm going to need to get you a hula hoop."

"Hula hoop?" Joanie questioned as Rebecca settled back down on the blanket, the girl snuggled in her lap.

A wall of grey clouds was starting to roll in over the ocean, threatening to eclipse the sun where it was sinking low behind them. A chill flew through the air in warning. _Go home. Seek shelter. The seas are going to be rough tonight. _

But still they stayed.

"Yep. It's a big hoop," Rebecca explained as she wrapped a fluffy yellow towel around her daughter's shoulders, her own arms cuddling the girl even closer. Rebecca's long dirty-blonde hair fell like a curtain around them both. "You spin it around your hips, so you can still twirl without getting dizzy."

Joanie looked up, her tiny brow furrowed, unasked questions dancing in her eyes. "But the dizzy is the best part."

Rebecca laughed as Joanie snuggled deeper into her, the girl's little blue eyes glued to the horizon as the sun dipped lower and lower at their backs. A single drop splattered on her arm.

"Rain, Mommy. Time to run yet?" There wasn't even a tinge of worry in the young girl's voice. She was a little daredevil, just like her mother.

"No... Not yet."

It had become a game to the pair during the rainy summer months on the island. Watch the storm roll in, wait in anticipation. See how long they could play chicken with the rumbling skies until they dashed toward the little blue house with pale yellow shutters as the massive rain drops began to fall, Joanie's giggles and Rebecca's laughter left to echo in the wind. Pure magic.

Rebecca dropped a kiss to the crown of her daughter's head as the girl started to spin a story about the seagulls flapping over the water, their caws tangling in the air. So much like her father. It came as naturally to her as it did to Rick, the fanciful tales and magnificent stories. Still, years later, Rebecca was content to just listen.

But that was one thing that had changed over time. Little by little, day by day, Kate Beckett had faded to the background, and Rebecca Rogers took her place. Gone were the grey brick walls and door-less shower, the whispers in the night, and the blood on her hands. Sure, every once in a while a fluorescent light would flicker, and the sound of the buzzing bulb would send her back to the cell. Some nights a nightmare would pull her thrashing from the realm of sleep in the early morning hours. It was rare now, though, and Rick was always there, arm wrapped around her middle, nose nuzzled into her shoulder, Joanie sprawled at her side, to draw her back to reality.

She still had the good memories- her father's watch, her mother's ring- but they were stowed away in a jewelry box, appearing a couple times a year whenever she felt the need to hold them, to have that tangible connection. But the draw of Rebecca Rogers was so much stronger now- this happy life they had created tucked away on their island. There were no conspiracies, no horrors, no real monsters sharing closet space with their very real skeletons. There was only this calm contentment that came as the clouds rolled in.

"Now, Mommy? Daddy will be home soon."

Rebecca smiled. He would be home soon. Joanie had been ecstatic about it all day. Finally back from his yearly book tour around the mainland. Los Angeles, Chicago, Seattle, Phoenix, Houston... New York. His true crime story, _her _story, had been his last work of nonfiction, his murder mystery novel _In a Hail of Bullets _finally getting its turn in the spotlight. The novel had been followed by a series starring a dashing secret agent and a beautiful and savvy NYPD detective he had enlisted for help. Her alternate life.

The media frenzy that had surrounded her "death" and Bracken's arrest had turned him into a minor celebrity in the writing world. Luckily the media hadn't been interested enough to trek to his secluded house on the small Hawaiian isle.

The sky rumbled, lightning flickering in the distance, drawing her out of her musings.

"Almost," she murmured into her daughter's ear, both wearing matching grins.

She wanted to savor this moment. This would be the last time that summer they would get to do this little ritual, just the two of them. Rick would be home, and in a few short days Joanie would be starting kindergarten. Soon after that she would be six and then seven. Rick had told her, warned her when Joanie was keeping them awake night after night as a newborn. Nursing. Colicky. Teething. In a fit of frayed nerves and lack of sleep she had spat out that she just wanted it to be over, for her to grow up. He had just smiled.

_"No you don't." _

_"But I do, Castle. I can't take it anymore. I can't do it. I haven't slept in weeks. I can barely keep my eyes open most days, my nipples are bleeding, and __she just keeps__ crying. It's like nails on a chalkboard. I just... How do people do this over and over, Castle? Why? Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm not made for this. Years of silence and solitude didn't prepare me __to be a mother__."_

_"Kate, you're doing great. You're doing better than I did the first time around. Leaps better than Meredith. You've got this. But trust me, don't wish it away too fast. Someday it'll be gone and you'll regret it." _

It was one of the last times he had called her by her old name in the light of day. Even now, only alone in their own home, in their bed when they whispered to each other in the middle of the night did he call her "Kate". They had decided it would be easier that way— easier for them, for Joanie, if she dropped Kate Beckett altogether. One day, in the future, when the girl was old enough to understand, she would know. But for now it was right, it was easy. Joanie didn't need a minor-celebrity father and a ghost for a mother. She needed normal, stable. They all did.

But Castle had been right, now she regretted all those times she had wished for Joanie to grow, for the days of kindergarten when she could get a couple hours of uninterrupted silence and the chance to pee without a little voice on the other side of the door whining that she was taking too long. So here, now, she was content to snuggle her baby while the storm rolled in, small drops of rain pelting their skin.

A bright flash in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned, squinting into the misty dusk. Rain was pelting down harder now, steadily. She could have sworn she saw a person in the distance. Her heart thudded under the sudden suspicion that she was being watched. Then thunder cracked, the earth below them shaking, pulling her out of her paranoia.

"Now!" She yelled, the smile and laughter betraying the urgency in her voice as any worry of phantom figures dissolved.

"Go, go, go!" She urged as Joanie gathered up her bucket, legs and arms flailing as tiny bare feet ran through the loose sand.

Rebecca ran behind her, arms full of towels and snacks as the blanket clutched in her fist flew overhead, weighed down by the steady drops of rain. Their laughter filled the air.

"Daddy!"

Rebecca looked up at her daughter's delighted squeal to see her husband squatting on the back porch of their cottage, arms stretched out in front of him as the girl, still coated in sand and salt water, dropped her load to the porch and launched herself into his embrace. Neither of them cared about the rain soaking her hair and body now seeping into his shirt.

"Hey, you." Her voice came out low, a rumble that could barely be heard over the rolls of thunder.

"Hey," he replied in kind as he stood, carrying their daughter with him. The warmth of his lips thawed her chilled ones as they met over Joanie's head. The smile on his face echoed in his eyes when they parted. "You miss me?"

"Oh, you know, every once in a while. The bed got kind of cold in the middle of the night without my own personal furnace. You?"

"Eh, I just made sure to bring extra blankets with me and I was fine..." Rebecca picked up Joanie's discarded belongings as the group trudged across the porch to the open French doors leading to the kitchen.

"Mmhmm, one of those blankets wouldn't happen to be a certain purple blanket that I have been searching the house for the last month, would it?"

A flicker of guilt swirled with the impishness in his eyes. "Perhaps."

She sighed happily as she pushed herself up on her tip toes, bracing a palm on the little girl's back as she leaned over her to kiss Rick's lips. "You'll pay for that later."

"I look forward to it."

He was home; the banter was back, and that was everything.

"How was the flight?" She murmured, as she pulled back, turning to dump the beach gear in the laundry.

"Fine. Long. Alexis and Mother are getting settled in the guest room."

"Good. How was... The City?" New York. She had almost said home. But it hadn't been home in a long time.

"The same. Full of busy people lost in their own lives."

Rebecca nodded, the lump suddenly growing in her throat. She shouldn't miss it. She didn't most days, but every once in a while...

"Daddy! Daddy, look! The storm."

The girl wiggled out of his arms and ran back to stand in the still-open doors. They both turned to where Joanie was pointing to the trees in the yard as they bent in the power of the wind, only illuminated by the brief flashes of light. Night had fallen quickly as the heavens opened, water lavishing from the sky. The sound of crashing waves filled in the gaps from the thunder.

"It's a bad one tonight," Rick murmured into her hair, his arms wrapping around her from behind.

She could only hum in response, her eyes surreptitiously scanning the horizon for the ghost of a figure, the niggling feeling gnawing at her gut, whispering in her brain. Something wasn't right.

"Becks? You okay?"

His breath, hot on her ear, sent a shiver down her spine, pulling her back to the moment. "Yeah, yeah, fine…"

"But...?"

She spun in his embrace, her arms automatically finding their way around his neck, fingers playing with the fine hairs at the base of his skull. "Why do you have to know me so well?"

"It's my job. What's up?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. It really was nothing; it had to be. "I just thought I saw someone when Joanie and I were down on the beach."

His brow furrowed in concern.

"But that's stupid, right? It's probably nothing. A tourist or a neighbor."

"Yeah, yeah. Nothing."

And yet, she could see in his eyes, that maybe he thought that nothing could be something too. It was a part of life for them now, doubt and paranoia, the constant worry that one day her picture would end up in the newspaper or on the internet. A breaking story, or a buried headline stating Kate Beckett was alive. But they had chosen to stay here, not to run to a foreign country or deserted island. They had both made their peace with the possibility that this all one day could end, even though both prayed every night before they closed their eyes for one day more in paradise. So she turned and leaned back into him as they both stared out into the storm, their daughter pointing and "Ooing" in fascination at the lighting.

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><p>Rebecca Rogers awoke to an empty bed, the sounds of music, voices and laughter filtering in from the kitchen. A small, contented smile spread across her face as she stretched, the silky cotton sheet caressing her bare skin.<p>

"Good morning, sleepyhead. The native was getting restless so Mother and Alexis took her down the road for an ice cream breakfast. Grandmother's privilege."

"Hmm, morning," she murmured, tongue still heavy with sleep as Rick shuffled into the room, carrying a tray with two coffee mugs and the newspaper.

"Big plans today."

"Mmhmm," she hummed as she propped herself up on her elbows, accepting her mug from his hand, smiling down at the white heart decorating the foam. "School supplies."

"So I've heard. There were rumors of 64 count packs of Crayons flying around the kitchen, along with a certain backpack."

"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. She's obsessed."

Rick's reply was muted on his lips by the shrill ringtone of his phone on the nightstand.

"Gina," he groaned.

"Seriously? It's Saturday. Ignore it. Whatever it is can wait. We have a gift of limited child-free time I wish to exploit and a husband I haven't seen in a month."

"Ignored," Castle replied, his finger deftly hitting the button as his phone fell back to the table.

Laughter rang in through the window. Coffee, voicemails, and the outside world were temporarily forgotten as the pair got lost in themselves. Even though the threats and worry loomed, sometimes, just sometimes, they were still able to forget the darkness they had chased from their past. If only for one more day.

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><p>AN: For the Anon who asked and for Dia- happy belated birthday. Thank you to Kate Christie for being the best beta a girl could ask for, even after 3 glass of wine.


End file.
